


Let it be like it has always been

by colorfulcharades



Series: Edgeless Melody [7]
Category: Thunderbolt Fantasy 東離劍遊紀 (TV)
Genre: Hair Braiding, I swear I did not plan this to turn into angst but I'm an angst machine, Light Angst, M/M, Past, Regrets, Reminiscing, Shāng is an idiot and so is Làng, there's fluff too tho, these fools, they love each other too damn much, too many words left unsaid between these two
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-06 23:30:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20299735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colorfulcharades/pseuds/colorfulcharades
Summary: And the silence, it remains.





	Let it be like it has always been

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Isabelu_u](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isabelu_u/gifts).

_**"Làng! This wind is completely unbelievable!"**_  


Sitting underneath a tree, face turned towards the gusts of flowing air that prickled like a thousand needles, the musician was only half-heartedly listening to his pipa's rambling.

  
Though, indeed, such strong winds were vastly unusual for this time of the year, not with rays of the sun's warmth falling gracefully over the land they walked upon, the nature welcoming them in colorful robes of late spring blooms and playful song of the birds.   
Spring was the time in which, as Làng would often hear, everything was alive. And the wind, strong and insistent, clashed in a harsh contrast against the blooming life of the world around them.  
Still, the weather was warm and rain was nowhere in sight, so Làng didn't complain.  
  
  
_"Dammit!"_   
  
  
Fortunately, his companion was lively enough to complain for both of them.  
  
Upon hearing his partner cursing, Làng jerked his head towards the source of the sound.  
And right there he stood, _his Shāng_, long hair flying in all directions, carried by the wind, entire strands of ebony and snow falling into his face, over the pins and feathers he carefully put on every morning. Colorful petals, carried by the wind, have nested into Shāng's hair like miniature birds, and his face was pulled in annoyed pout, muttering profanities under his breath as he worked to untagle a particularly problematic strand of hair, caught up in the buckles of his clothing.   
  
Làng was never a person who smiled often, let alone laughed, but seeing his companion in such an incovenient state always seemed to be stronger than the stoic mindset he surrounded himself with.  
Bringing a hand to his face, he tried suppressing the itching urge to laugh, but couldn't silence a chuckle of amusement that left his lips. On his shoulder, the demonic pipa started laughing as well.  
  
Shāng turned to face the musician, at first surprised to hear him laugh, but immediately letting out an annoyed exhale as a particularly strong gust of wind pushed his hair in front of his face.  
  
  
_"Hey, you two! What's so funny all of a sudden?"_

  
  
Làng stopped laughing upon hearing his voice, but a smile remained on his features. For the past years since they started this journey, he grew familiar to every pitch and tone of the older man's voice, every slightest change in his behavior, every emotion he was going through. Làng became an expert in reading Shāng's behavior like an open book.

Not that Shāng made any effort to hide it anyway. He trusted the musician with his very life, and made sure Làng could feel the same. Theirs was a bond of endless trust, forged through fire and pain and painful silences, through rain and thunder and scorching rays of the sun, through gusts of wind and storms of snow that fell upon them so many times.  
They have already grown used to it all. Side by side with someone worth of trust, all the pain and frustration lost it's intensity.  
  
  
Shāng stared as the musician clad in vibrant red robes outstretched a pale hand, motioning for him to come closer. As naturally as breathing, his body started moving closer to him, curiosity blooming inside his mind like an early spring flower. Upon approaching, he sat upon the warm grass underneath a tree, his hair carried by the wind, a restless flock of obsidian birds. Làng outstretched his hand for a bit, and ran his fingers through it.

  
_Soft. _  
_ Soft like the finest of satin__._

  
  
It amazed him, though he would never say it out loud, how soft and beautiful Shāng's hair was. No matter the odds, the time he spent exposed to the snow, rain, to the scorching sun and sharp whistles of the wind, it fell gracefully, like a black waterfall, over Làng's pale fingertips.   
  
Làng loved braiding it.   
  
  
_A fleeting memory. _  
  
_ He braided Shāng's hair for the first time that day._   
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
  
Feeling the musician's soothing touch undoing the knots of his wind-tangled hair made Shāng relax involuntarily, leaning against Làng's touch as his eyes focused on the grass in front of him.   
Gusts of wind were strong still, fleeting and sneaking through Shāng's robes as they sat, motionless, under a tree. Young branches bloomed in pearly white flowers. He could hear the chirping of spring birds, the rustle of leaves and the faint whistle of wind against his ears.  
  
_And Làng's hands, his long fingers, careful and gentle as if strumming over the strings._

  
  
_ **Just like that first time.**_  
_** Just like the time before I left.**_  
  
  
  
The thought in his head is loud and clear, yet he dares not utter a word. What is it worth, returning to the past? Ruining this moment, this second of peace and gentleness, with the thought that he left Làng alone.  
  
He left him alone, and he didn't want to.   
  
And when Làng had returned, as vibrant as the sun, as gentle as the moon, he still did not know what to tell him.  


So now, what was the point of speaking? The voice in his throat would die down anyway. He would struggle to say what he could never put into words. His greatest regret, and he couldn't speak it out loud.

  
He didn't know how, so he chose not to make a sound, not to stain this sacred moment of silence that made him remember what he shouldn't have done.  
  
  
  
  
And the silence, it remains, insistent between them, though they do not mind, choosing to let this one moment of much-needed relaxation linger, at least, for a little more time.

  
The same memory plagues them both, the same bitterness, the same words unsaid and the same feelings untouched, undiscovered.

The same thoughts remaining, yet they stay, sitting, in silence.

  
_**At least a little longer, let it be like it was before.**_  
  
  
  


  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Long time no fics! I seriously missed writing, been through a huge writing block too, and then I found this drabble in my notes and wanted to complete it. I didn't mean for this to turn into angst, but I'm a monster and I regret it not a single bit


End file.
